


The boy from Ipanema

by Persephonesheart



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Actual angel alec lightwood, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Blood and Violence, Confident Alec Lightwood, Crossdressing, F/M, Falling In Love, Femme Fatale, Femme Fatale Alexander Lightwood, Fluff and Angst, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia Boss Magnus, Mafia boss Jace Wayland, Maybe - Freeform, Organized Crime, Sexually Confident Alec Lightwood, Shy Alec Lightwood, Slang, Some real fluffy moments coming your way, Strangers to Lovers, Threats of Violence, smut?, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2019-08-06 16:06:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16390877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephonesheart/pseuds/Persephonesheart
Summary: Alexander lightwood is just a regular book shop owner with friends in high places. All he wants in life is to live peacefully with the ocassional assistance given to Jace when patching him up.But then Jace, a mafia don's son, messes up and his punishment includes Alexander, or more specifically, his death. Jace inlists the help of one Magnus Bane, his father's rival's son, and things become a lot more complicated, steamy and dangerous.Chapter 4 now edited.





	1. A gloomy meeting

The flickering street light from outside the window casts disappearing shadows over the pale skin of the tall blonde smoking in front of him. He shouldn’t be here, knows its wrong, shouldn’t allow him to be sat on the windowsill, hand holding a cigarette, suspenders dangling at his waist. The smoke twirls into the air before disappearing and the blonde turns his head. “You need to go back at some point.” The smooth voice calls out, drawing the blond mind into focus.

“Don’t remind me, we’re supposed to be mortal enemies and yet here I am smoking with you. What does that say to you?” A sigh.

A shrug.

“That we are in danger of causing a war?” It was said dismissively but they both heard the underlying truth to the statement. The room goes back to silence and the Asian picks up the whiskey on his desk, his heeled boots coming to rest on its surface. He knocks back the drink in one. Swirls it in his mouth. Swallows. “Why are you here really?” Not intrusive, not demanding. Open. An option.

“I’ve been given my new orders.” Sigh. Pulls the cigarette towards pale, thin lips.

“And? You have been getting orders since you were ten, what’s stopping you from doing this one. Finally thinking of retiring and leaving me the empire?” Smirking without malice. Without pressure or anger. It’s a welcome change for the both of them.

“No. Its against someone I care a lot about. I can’t go through with it.” Exhale. Smoke curling, fading into the ceiling above the pair.

“What will you do?” A long pause. Breathe in, out, in out. A drink rises to plump lips and golden liquid disappears.

“I’m going to get him to safety and then I’m going to take control. I can’t keep living under him like this.” Its an open comment. Could happen, could not. The blond knows. The Asian suspects. The first part is a definite. It will happen regardless. He is too much of a pure light to be removed.

“Would you like some help?” Blond hair turns slowly. Eyes meet across the darkened room and weigh up the other. They’re not friends, not exactly. They’re supposed to be bitter rivals, unable to even stand in the same room. Yet here they are. As every Sunday night. Sat in the Asian's office, one drinking whiskey, the other smoking cigarettes, guns discarded at the door.

“It would be appreciated.” Its not a contract. An unbreakable pact. But they are aware of what they are asking of each other. If the Asian intervenes, helps the blond, then things can go either way. Empires fall, or they rise. For the sake of the man the blond seeks to protect, the Asian hopes it’s the former. He has heard many tales of a bygone era featuring the friend, but he has yet to meet or know his name. They're not really close enough for that.

The blond turns back around to face outside the window, his cigarette end burning out, the final wisps of smoke disappear into the dark of the night. The Asian places his glass back down. Analyses the boy, nay man, in front of him. How long had this semi truce been going on. Must have been near enough two years now. They never see each other outside of this space and they don’t do much with each other inside it. Sit at opposite ends of a room. Smoke. Drink. Discuss. Get lost in their heads. But he feels an element of protectiveness towards the blond. They both grew up in similar circumstance. Both owe their privilege to their lineage. Both suffered at the hands of those supposed to protect them. But there are differences.

The man who is cared about, the one never explicitly mentioned. He features a lot in the blonde’s stories. He’s not the same as them, doesn’t do what they do, but he is aware. That much is evident. This mystery man has shared most of his life with the blond and has calmed him down even when the Sunday nights can’t. Whoever this man is, he needs to be protected. He is a pure force in an otherwise dark world for the blond and the Asian desires to have the same. Hopes that in helping this can be achieved. The boy is in danger and the blond is worried. More than he would be for any one else. Its not only business, not this hit. No way it can be.

They wouldn’t send the blond otherwise. They know it will hurt him, will kill him to kill his rock. That sort of alliance, especially outside their line of work is rare. Unheard of almost. He is jealous, but he is supportive. They may be enemies but even he would fight for something like that. A glue. Something that binds him altogether and tells him to _live, live, live_. Live for himself, live for him. “Tell me about him.” A request. Simple. Not intrusive, not demanding. An invitation.

A smile lights up the blonde’s face. He looks better with it the Asians muses. Not enough for temptation, to risk the calm world they’ve built here. He saves that for someone else. The blond turns back to look at him. Half-lidded multicoloured eyes stare back into golden green and judge. It is silent for a few moments more. The blond breathes in. Deep. Resounding. “What do you want to know?” It comes out soft. Quiet. The tone he takes when talking about his friend. The one he is willing to risk everything for, to turn away from the lifestyle he was born into, the one whose light is supposed to be snuffed out. The one the Asian yearns to meet.

“Start with his name.” The blond turns back to the window. The shadows carve his features like stone and the smile on his face remaining as his mind no doubt flashes through the multitude of memories connected to the boy. The one worth saving. He breathes out. Calmly. Relaxed.

“Alexander lightwood.”


	2. Just Who Is Isabelle Lightwood

Magnus thought for a long while after the blond had gone home. To do what Jace was requesting, to help this boy he was supposed to kill, he would be required to place his own life on the line. His own father could never know that Magnus had teamed up with the other don's son, and Jace's father could never know that his son was planning on bringing down his empire. 

But the love that blondie had shown for his friend, a deep inbuilt love that extended beyond the realm of blood, was increasingly rare and Magnus felt a desire to protect it. Alexander Lightwood had done no wrong other than be friends with Jace, and even then it was because the blond had initated everything. 

He'd agreed soon after Jace had finished talking. The blond had spoke at length about his childhood spent with Alexander, the endless fun and games, the laughter, the enjoyment, the carelessness of youth. The latino boy had been with Jace as long as he can remember, the Lightwood family immigrating to America and moving next door to the Wayland's before he was five. 

Their friendship was the only redeaming quality in Jace's life, he'd told Magnus, and to see it destoryed over a careless mistake Jace still wouldn't admit to was heart-breaking.

They planned to meet two days from now, in a small innocuous drive-in that no high power mafia don would even think of visiting. There Magnus would meet this elusive and charming boy, there they would talk, make plans, decide. Magnus would help with information. Weaknesses. Strategies. Safe houses. Anything Jace could use to first insure the safety of his friend and second, to take down the empire his adoptive father had built up. 

They'd agreed that should the plan work and Valentine's empire crash and burn, Magnus would inherit his buisness' and locations. Jace had never wanted any part of the mafia, neither before or after Alexander's call for excecution and so would willingly give up the space to the Bane Mafia. Asmodeus was on his last limbs and soon Magnus would control all of Newy York. Just as he'd hoped.

He sets his drink down on the counter. Stares at the glass. Ponders a moment. 

He's taking a risk with Alexander Lightwood, but something in his gut tells him everyhting will turn out just fine. 

* * *

 

Magnus began to suspect he’d been stood up.

Tricked.

That perhaps blondie was a better actor then he had realised; that he had lured him to a place of ‘safety’ only to ambush him. He wouldn’t be surprised, it would simply be classed as business. He’s in a café on the edge of town which was moderately busy, not too full or too empty.

A perfect meeting place for something so important. Or for quietly taking down the son of your bitter rival.

After hearing the blonde’s tales of his friend, this _Alexander Lightwood_ , who was his anchor, Magnus had jumped on the opportunity to help; to have someone like Alexander in their line of work was rare and the Asian refused to destroy what Jace had. There’s a cup of coffee in his hand and he observes it absently as he lets his mind wander. Swirls it. Shrugs. Drinks it.

Blondie is over half an hour late to this meeting. He never sent word beforehand that he's been held up and no call has been made to the cafe during his time inside to say he was running behind schedual. The longer he was made to wait, the more agitated Magnus became. 

His eyes followed every movement of the people around him. He studied them, calculated the risk they presented to him. He worked out who was armed and who was not, who had the potential strength to kill him with force or who would have the intellegence to poision the coffee in his hands. He would take no chances with his safety and although chances were all these people were just innocent civillians, Magnus had no desire to play with fire. 

He figures there are a potential of three things happening in this moment. The first is that Blondie is simply running late for the meeting, that for some reason he was delayed and had not found the time to inform Magnus of this development. Annoying but not life threatning or damaging in any way. An offence he could forgive.

The second is that Jace has tricked him. Belied him into visiting this place so that Magnus could be taken down with minimal fuss. He'd been forced to come here with no protection other than his own guns, he couldn't draw attention to himself due to the threat of his father  _and_ Valentine; it would be a perfect oppotunity to kill him, or perhaps torture him first if the blond was so inclined.

The third was that Jace had been discovered. That by some trick of the world his plan had been uncovered and currently both he and Alexander Lightwood were suffering at the hands of Valentine. He could only hope, due to his involvement with the plan, that Blondie knew how to keep his mouth shut and wasn't spilling his secret to Valentine; the pain that admission would bring was too painful to think about.

The bell above the door rings out chamringly and the dyed locks of his head shift with the force of his movement to face the direction of the noise. Blondie is walking through the doorway with his shoulders hunched over and his eyes downcast, he moves almost silently, dodging around people and wait staff alike. _Clever boy_. Jace is making himself disappear amongst the civilians sat around, he’s hiding in plain sight so that his superiors can’t find him. It's an old trick, one Magnus has employed the use of thousands of times to escape in a moment of desperation, and the Asian smiles at the almost child-like tactic employed by the blond. 

He moves in a straight line to Magnus and with a frown the elder realsises that he can't  _see_ anyone behind Jace. Was this a trick after all? This was simply just Jace coming to gloat that the building was surrounded and Mangu shad fallen prey to a dastardly plan of his own invention? A seat is pushed back roughly as a customer stands and the blond is forced to veer of his straight and narrow course towards Magnus, turning to the side and moving at an angle, allowing the elder to see the room beyond the hulking mass of muscle.

Behind him is a girl.

Now Magnus is aware that he may not be the smartest, but even he knows that Alexander is a male name.

The situation in its entirety is peculiar and the very thought of what it could entail excites him, but first he has to see about this girl. She was not what was promised. Jace had set this up so that he could actually meet Alexander Lightwood, see the person he was risking his life to protect, risking his empire for.

Eventually, after what must have been five minutes of walking from the front door, blondie arrives at his table table in the back corner. _Prick._ He’d deliberately taken his time to piss Magnus off, a petty power over him considering the situation; he doesn’t really care, it’s a game they were playing even before their weekly meetings in his office. Jace will  _always_ struggle to reach Magnus' level however.

He dismisses Jace. Ignores him as he sits down in the booth opposite him. The same can not be said for the girl.

The Asian slams his cup back onto the table when she comes closer. Freezes. Stares. Swallows. Whoever she is, the girl is _stunning._ Hair held in the popular thick fringe style, with dark intoxicating locks cascading down her back with slight curls bouncing at the bottom, bushy fringe dusting the top of her eyelashes. A dark blue and green checkered circle skirt puffed out with petticoats and pulled tight around the lithe waist. _Delicious_. A tight black blouse with a high collar and delicate patterning frames a flat but nubile chest. Professional. Sinful.

Black t-strap shoes add height and emphasises the agile lines of the legs. Long. Pale. Magnus wants them wrapped tightly around his waist and soon. Smouldering eyes lined with dark kohl and mascara peer up at him as if scared. Blue iris’, brighter that the sky on a summer morning, reflect back at his own green and gold combination and the Asian finds himself getting lost in their depths. Lips, redder than the blood he spills daily, are plump and tempting. He wants to bite and suck at them. This girl is everything Magnus could ever dream of in a person and Jace seems to be offering her up for his pleasure.

Just _who_ is this delectable creature blondie has brought? Not his doll, that one is ginger. Or has he changed since their meeting a week ago?

He realises with a jolt that this must be Isabelle Lightwood, the saviours sister whom Jace had mentioned briefly.

Why is she here in place of her brother?

Something must have gone wrong with blondie's plan, it must be why he turned up late. Magnus averts his gaze from the classy chassis before him and stares angrily at the blonde now opposite him. Jace looks neither distraught or panicky, more cocky and amused if anything, as if someone had whispered a joke in his ear and he was refraining from laughing.

He graciously raises one eyebrow at the boy as Isabelle silently slides into the booth and sits down next to her brother. “Well?” He asks, patience already running out. Blondie seems almost nervous at the question, as if his actions have now begun to have an impact on him. The female lightwood is no help. Her eyes remain on the table before them, a blush rapidly spreading on her fine face and over her sharp cheekbones. _Damn_. He stares. Licks his lips. Sighs.

“Jace?” The blond startles at his name and opens his mouth to answer before closing it. How this boy is the heir to an empire Magnus will never know.

“Magnus, you remember our conversation?” He does. How could he forget. Blondie, sat in the windowsill with a deck of luckies in his hand, suspenders at his waist. Story after story falling from his lips about a boy called Alexander. A boy who anchored Jace into reality and made him human.

A nod.

Blondie takes this as confirmation to keep talking. “You remember the promise you made?” Its not a prompting question, leading him to one answer. Its open. Unassuming. Blondie is asking if he’s pulling out or regretting his choice. _Never_. Above all else, he craves adventure. Again, Magnus nods and his eyes naturally fall to the doll beside the blond. Simply breath-taking. Perhaps he’ll ask her to the drag he’s participating in tomorrow evening, some eye candy to get him going. Perhaps not. “You keeping the promise?”

Magnus had had enough of vague, recollective questions. He may be many things, may do many things, but breaking promises he never does. Well. Not ones this serious anyway. So, in as much of a ‘Magnus’ fashion he can, he makes him annoyance known. “Have you come to interrogate me or will I be meeting this illustrious boy of yours sometime today?”

Both of the people opposite him seem to choke on their spit and the image makes him laugh. _Almost_.

“If not, perhaps I could take this doll to see a flick this evening? Or a drag tomorrow?” The girl, woman, _Isabelle_ , looks up at him startled, plump red lips parting slightly in confusion. Sinfully innocent in his opinion. “What do you say doll, wanna cut a rug with me or see a flick?” The Asian moves closer to the goddess before him, eyes darkening in lust. Girls like Isabelle are always fast for him, they want a taste of something dangerous, something _exotic_. 

She smiles coquettishly, her blood red lips widening slightly as she flutters her lashes at him a little. Her cheeks burn hot at his attention but she doesn't pull herself away from his advancement, instead slowly angling her body forward and bringing her face closer. She bites her lip shyly and her eyes become half-lidded as they look him up and down in an overt manner. Magnus licks his suddenly dry lips and shifts closer, begining to draw a hand upwards to caress her face. Isabelle opens her peony mouth a little, tongue moving to form words and the Asian waits with anticipation to hear her voice crooning at him.

Before she can respond however, Blondie puts his hand down on the table and forces his body away.

Rude.

Isabelle herself has lowered her head, blush now more prominent than before. He feels proud. Smug. Blondie looks annoyed and pissed off at Magnus’ attempt to seduce his best friends little sister. _Boo-hoo_. He shouldn’t have dangled such an illustrious image before him. “Yes?” Magnus questions just to be spiteful, voice laced with his own annoyance. Blondie seems to compose himself for a minute, eyes locking onto Isabelle’s as they communicate silently. Maybe she _was_ his doll if they could do such a thing. 

A pause. A heavy sigh. A slow intake of breath.

Jace turns back round to face him fully and his face is devoid of any of its normal smugness. A hand, calloused from the grip of a gun held too tight too many times, stretches out towards Isabelle. Said woman only ducks her head back down as Magnus winks at her. How adorable. “This,” Blondie begins, voice low and gravelly as if conducting business. _Oh_. He was conducting business now.

“This is Alexander Lightwood.”

It would seem _she_ was not a she at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I havent updated this in forever! Please let me know if you're intrested in reading more from this AU and don't be afriad to comment on what you like, didn't and want to see happen in the future.
> 
> Classy Chassiss - Great body  
> Deck of Luckies - Pack of lucky strike cigarettes  
> Drag - A car race  
> Flick - Film  
> Cut a rug - Dance


	3. Once more, from a different angle

Alexander was aware of many truths in the world in which he lived. The first was this; that opening a bookstore at eighteen, fresh out of high school, without aid from your homophobic parents was hard. They'd been willing but reluctant to help fund his venture at first, once they'd relialised he would never take over the family buisness of accountants, but once he'd been caught kissing a boy behind a closed door he'd been kicked to the curb with less than a glance. 

The second; that he was doomed to die single and alone. Alec had been trying to find that one special person for as long as he could remember, find that one person who would make his heart soar, his head fuzzy and his eyes sparkle. No one wanted him. He'd searched. He had resigned himself to this fact.

And third; that any idea Jace made was bound to be ridiculously stupid. Alec was aware of Jace's involvement in the mafia. His adoptive family ran it and from the age of ten he'd been involved in running things. Killing. Stealing. Fighting. Alec had forced the knowledge of his mafia ties out of Jace once he'd begin to try and draw away from him at ten and had stuck by him since. Jace needed someone he could confine to about his hatred and reluctance to be involved and Alec had sworn that he would be that person; but  _godamn_ did Jace come up with the stupidest plans sometimes.

Such as now. 

“You want me to _what_?” The raven haired male cried out. They were in the backroom of his store, which was closed for the rest of the day, and Jace had made sure to close every blind and lock every door. They were invisible. Hidden.

Alec knew that Jace was trying to subtly hide the truth from him, hide the fact that Alec was now involved with his family, hide that, for whatever reason, Alec himself had become a target for Jace to shoot. It wasn’t working. Not today. Alec had dragged the truth from him, forced Jace to tell him that he had a contract on him. He was not some little tag along bitch for Jace to squander and lie to. He was part of the blondes life, whether he liked it or not and Alec would not let Jace hide something so important to him.

But he was hunted. Wanted.

He knew that Jace had been told to be the one to carry out the order and so wasn’t too afraid that his time of eighteen years was at an end. Yet. Alec knew that eventually he would need to go into hiding until this situation could be sorted, but really, _t_ _his_ was Jace’s spotless plan. Unbelievable. Typical. The blond shrugged. Avoided eye contact. Glanced up.

“Jonathan Christopher-“

“Okay, okay. I said I want you to dress up as Izzy.”

Silence fell once more. A scoff of disbelief escaped his throat. “You can’t be serious.” The blond simply nodded his head in confirmation, small sly smile lighting up his face. A mischevious smile. It was his go to ‘trust me look’ that made women and men swoon for him. With his blond slick backed hair and million dollar smile Jace could have been in movies, could have anyone crawling behind him. Could ask for anything. Instead he had ended up in the mafia and Alec had always felt a little sorry for him because of that fact. Perhaps it was why he often agreed to Jace’s plans.

If you could call them that.

“Look Jace, homosexuality was only legalised a decade ago, I don’t think me dressing up will-"

“Come one Alec it's only for-"

"Jace I swear to all the gods above-

"It's for your safety Alec!"

Silence.

_His safety._

Alec heaved a sigh of fond annoyance; Jace, however aborted his plans were, often did them for the right reasons and if he thought Alec dressing up as Izzy would be helpful, there was probably a reason for that. Alec sighed again. Shrugged his shoulders. Resigned himself.

“Tell me more about this plan,” He heard himself say and as Jace opened his mouth to speak Alec corrected his statement, “Why do I have to dress up as my sister?” If he asked Jace the first, he would be here all day listening to every minute detail. He didn't really want to know all that. 

Jace looked sheepish. It was not a look he wore often. _Curiouser and curiouser_ _cried Alice_. “I have a friend, in so many words, who is willing to help you out.” Alec took a moment to consider these words; whoever this person was, the pair weren’t close, and the blue eyed man wondered just how this agreement came about. In Jace’s business ‘friends’ were often something else entirely. Sometimes they were mearly associates. Othertimes, enemies. With a quirk of his eyebrow, the blond continued.

“You know you can’t leave your flat or shop without being watched and if they see you with me, people will get suspicious, right?” Jace looked to Alec once more, as if checking to see if he was keeping up with the explanation. Alec hated the fact he was being watched, despised it. When he'd first been kicked out of his house and got his own place, the privacy he'd achieved was something he relished.

Alec disliked being observed, disliked people thinking they had the right to know his buisness. He'd managed, for a few short months, to obtain complete privacy and control of his life. Now, for some undetermined reason, he was being watched 24/7 by an organisation Jace was a part of.  _Raziel above._

Jace saw the questioning and hurt look in his eyes. “My…friend… wants to meet you first, to see if you are worth the risk, before pledging to help you. But, he will only do so after meeting in a public place, which for obvious reasons, is a bit difficult for us. But Alec, I swear, the deal is chilli.” The blond finished, arms outstretched as if finishing a chorus line, hands shaking slightly as if presenting something wonderful.

Everything about this was dodgy. Alec knew no reason for his contract, knew nothing about the man they were meeting, knew shit about if this paln would even work. He was relying on a half-brained best friend, a random stranger who may be an enemy and a half-formed, half-ridiculous plan to keep him alive. What would this friend even be able to do in the grand scheme of things? Valentine was a viscious man, more than once Jace had come to his apartment begging for aid, and there was little the man could do if he wanted.

His life was now a plaything for the powerful. He had nothing to lose. 

“So let me get this straight. You want _me_ to dress as a female to hide that I am currently target _número uno hermano_?” The blonds smile widened, perfectly white one hundred watts, and he nodded enthusiastically, a couple of strands of his gelled hair falling onto his face.

"That's right!" He exclaimed triumphantly, as if Alec repeating the plan back to him was groundbreaking. He can’t believe he’s doing this. Alec could feel his resolve leaving him at the sight. He didn’t want to die. Not really. And if this person could clear Jace’s conscience then he would gladly give it a chance.

“Very well Jace, I’ll meet this person for you.” In response the taller male ran forward and wrapped his muscular arms around Alec, a litany of thank yous falling from his lips. Alec's life was in the hand of his best friend and a stranger now, he would have to rely on them for everything beyond the four walls of his shop and his house. Every sale he now made was to a potential spy for Valentine and every stranger who knocked on his door was a threat. 

This plan better work and it better work quickly.

 “You’d better be glad Izzy is away in Europe and doesn’t know you stole her clothes.”

 

* * *

 

Alec was beginning, not for the first time, to regret ever agreeing to one of Jace's plans. When they were eleven Jace had convinced him climbing a tree to spy on the boy next door would be both achievable and rewarding; it had ended in a broken arm. When they were thirteen, Jace had created a plan to get some local boys into a fight by having Alec speak at them in spanish; instead Alec had learned of a little thing called _racism_ and been forced to walk home with bruises all over his body. However, this current plan must have been one of the stupidest.

It was complete and utterly stupid.

So far he’d been catcalled, pinched, groped and bellowed at as a female, as his _sister_. Every man they'd passed seemed interested in what he looked like, eyes ogling and immovable from his frame, and many had tried their hardest to grab ahold of him. He'd looked to his best friend for help, knowing that it would arouse suspicion if he thought back but Jace had only shrugged and smirked. _Prick_.

But now, stood at the front of the diner, illuminated words written above the door _‘Mel’s drive-in’,_ he was willing to go back and face the endless hordes of men who viewed him as a piece of meat. Worthless. Submissive. It was one thing to be walking and mistaken as a woman, but Alec was going to have to sit down and act as if he were actually, _a woman_.

Alec could study his sister and her friends all he wanted to recreate their actions, but ultimately he was just a man playing dress-up. A _teenager_ in dress-up. This whole thing was going to fall through and it was all going to be his fault this time. How had Jace convinced him to do this again? The skirt pinched too tightly around his waist. His feet were sure to have blisters. The shirt settled too tightly against his chest.

And the wig, where in hell had Jace gotten a wig that so perfectly fitted Izzy’s style and Alec’s head? It was a perfect recreation of Izzy's current style and fit his head more comfortably than most clothes he owned. It was clearly expensive and of a high-class make, so Jace was showing clear willing to make sure everything looked and seemed innocuous for both Valentine's spies and this  _friend_. He'd refused to even call Alec by his real name at any point during the day.

Just how long _had_ he been planning this thing?

Although, as Alec was unwilling to admit to Jace, he was exceedingly glad that the wig came down to his eyes. It made him more relaxed as now he could hide behind the bangs reaching his eyelashes if he choose to and could pretend that it was his own hair rather than a wig replicating his sister. At least he could pretend from the front. The back of the wig was much longer than his hair had ever been.

But perhaps, what the most horrifying thing about this experience was the make-up.

_Make-up._

Something that would never again touch his face after today. Jace had almost poked his eye out too many times for such a thing to be safe. He'd brought out a bag of objects from Izzy's room - clearly breaking into her apartment was okay for Jace - and demanded that Alec should sit still whilst he put it on. And how had his best friend ever known how to put makeup on someones face? Was his doll (Clare? Clary? Alec cared too little to remember) unable to do it herself and forced Jace to learn?

“Hey _Izzy_ , you good?” Jace questioned with a smirk as the pseudo female stopped dead at the door. He was still garnering wistful looks from the nearby boys and girls and although the make-up on his face helped to dim the effect, he knew he was blushing furiously. He was not used to peoples attention. He looked up. Looked down. Looked at Jace.

“Oh yeah peachy keen Jace, I’m practically on cloud nine at this moment.” His voice was raising in anger and agitation at the reminder of why he was here and a few people near by looked over, gazes curious at the manly voice coming from the dainty looking female. It would have been hilarious; if he was not the one dressed up.

“C’mon Alec, cool it, its only for a short while” The blond lowered his voice, raising his hand to grip Alec’s shoulder in reassurance; if the raven was too nervous they would go back and work something out, he wouldn’t force him so far out of his comfort zone. Jace was reliable and loyal to a fault. If Alec really protested about this, Jace would gladly risk the fallout.

Alec inhaled deeply. Imagined life if this plan didn't work. Nodded hesitantly. He reached out to the door and stepping through, sighing at the light breeze that met him as he entered. The outfit he wore was hot, the air con was a welcome relief. A little bell chimed above the door gayly and a waitress zipped over, smiling as she rode towards them on her roller skates. She looked plastic. Fake. Just as Alec himself was in this moment.

How ironic.

 

* * *

 

As expected, this meeting was screwing him over. He regretted attending almost instantly.

Not only was Jace’s ‘friend’ _Magnus Bane_ of the Bane mafia, only son of the don Asmodeus Bane, but he was also a complete _dreamboat_. Honestly, Alec thought as he sipped desperately at the water in front of him, the man must have been on a mission to kill him. Incapacitate him. Bewitch him completley and entirely.

He wore a tight white shirt with pegged sleeves (a feature sure to feature heavily in Alec's dreams from hereon in), which served to emphasis the pure muscle under the mans skin and make Alec's eyes and mouth water in pleasure. It was worn underneath a blood red double breasted waistcoat that tightend around the muscles of his pecs. Black suit trousers fitted against strong thighs and calves, emphasised perfectly the length of the mans legs. Already Alec could tell this man was taller than him – by some inches if he was correct- and it made his heart beat faster than ever before. Black oxfords covered his feet, sleek and shiny, and golden skin shone in the space between the trouser and shoe; Alec had the strange inclination to lick the area.

In short, the man had completly blindsided Alec with his apperance and if ever there was a moment to reaffirm Alec's status as a gay man; this was it. 

The man had almond shaped eyes lined in kohl through which a deep forest green twinkled and Alec swore he could see flecks of gold within, as if Magnus Bane was some kind of feline in disguise. His hair, even darker than Alec’s own, was swept back into a long classic pompadour and the smaller male felt the need to drop to his knees in worship in front of such a godlike figure. Worse of all, or best depending on how he looked at it, was Magnus' flirting.

Oh _god_ the flirting.

A wink. A smile. A comment. Magnus gave them in heaps and bounds, and Alec responded as he always did. By blushing. He did try to flirt back, he wasn’t some hopeless school boy anymore but Magnus was a whole new level. Alec had very limited experience with flirting and was vastly restricted to coy looks and flirtateous smiles that spoke of something more.

Magnus had clearly seen his blushing and juvenile flirting as a challenge and had decided to make him blush more and more. He was regretting this now. He wanted to leave. He wanted to stay. But then Jace had revealed who he was and Alec wouldn’t trade in the sight for anything.

Magnus sat. Mouth open. Eyes bulging. Glass of whiskey long forgotten. “Oh” He whispered, disbelief lining his tone. “ _Oh_ ,” he repeated and Alec could only blush more and duck his head back down; such a beautiful man who now thought he was a freak for dressing up as his sister - there went any hope of anything between them. There went Alec's hope that his number two belief would be proven incorrect.

“You failed to mention, blondie,” The Asian begin, voice low to hide their conversation further, “That your lovely companion was not only your _Alexander,_ ” The man himself couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through him at the sound of his name being purred out, something it would seem Magnus had noted. Fuck. No one had called him by his full name for a long time.

“But that he also enjoyed dressing as his sister.” The judgement is sent to Jace, the hard glare in his eyes partaining only to the blond, not Alec, and something in his chest warms at the realisation that this man doesn’t think him a freak for doing this. Only that he’s feeling betrayed at the switching of information. Perhaps there is a chance for them both after all; that is, if Magnus' flirting was real and not to rile Jace up.

Once again Jace looks sheepish. Twice in a day. A miracle. “He doesn’t.” At Magnus’ unbelieving eyebrow raise, Jace revises his statement. “This is the only time he’s done such a thing, and it was for his protection.” The Asian looks between them once more and Alec sends a plea through his blue eyes, there’s nothing wrong with those who dress as the opposite gender but in this moment Alec _really_ doesn’t want this man to think anything negative about him. He wants Magnus _in_ him if he’s being honest.

Magnus smirks, a coy little smile on his beautiful face, and Alec relaxes back in his seat once more. A golden piercing gaze turns towards him once more and Alec begins to sweat under its intensity. He sees Jace out of the corner of his eye stiffen slightly, ready to jump in and protect his brother, but Magnus simply reaches out and catches one of his hands within his own. A jolt of electricity flashes through him at the feeling. The smirk widens.

“Say doll, I’m willing to give you a chance but not before I see _you_.” Alec tilts his head in confusion, what did Magnus want? He’s here, in person, in a public space. This is what Magnus requested, so what more did he want. “Take off your wig for me cookie, let me see who I’m working with.” Alec stops breathing for a moment. Take off his wig, here? Inside the restaurant? Magnus must be joking. He couldn’t do such a thing, everyone will see him. He’ll be hunted. Watched.

Valentine is only a hairsbreath away from forcing Jace's hand, and Alec's can feel his life being juggled by a man he has never met.

A hand grazes his elbow and Alec starts with a jolt, blue eyes shooting to Jace. Communicating only with a hard glare in his eyes, Jace promptly drags Alec onto his lap, a squeal definetly  _not_ leaving his lips as the movement, before moving from underneath him and into the seat Alec used to occupy. It only takes a moment for Alec to realise what his best friend has done. Alec has been placed where Jace once was and as a result is now pressed against the corner of the booth with Jace and Magnus covering the opening.

The smaller male is hidden from the sight of the other diners and the doorway so any action he does here will be completely obscured. No patrons can see them and Valentine must certainly can't. The familiar feeling of protection and safetly that arouses from this realisation serves only to make Alec’s love towards his best friend increase. He finds that his nerves have been mollified slightly by this action as well and he can now assess this request rationally.

He wont look _too_ ridiculous he theorises. His make up is not heavy so his face won’t look weird when the wig comes off. His natural hair, the raven locks that fall in front of his eyes and down to his jawline, would appear to any as a simple, short style that females have been trying out. He’ll still look like a girl, but he will seem to be more manlier, more himself. He hopes his own appearance, and not Izzy's, is enough for Magnus to still find him attractive. Alec wants safety first off, but will gladly take Magnus as a lover if the chance arrives.

Taking a deep breath, eyes never leaving his brothers, Alec raises his hands and gently removes the wig from his head, hastily shaking his own hair out into something more natural. Briefly closing his eyes, Alec shifts his head towards Magnus before opening them, jolting back when he sees something _dark_ and _heavy_ in his gaze. Is Magnus attracted to him? _Lusting_ ater him? _D_ _ios por favor que sea asi..._

After only a moment of silence Magnus’ face opens into a sultry smile, pupils darkening further and expanding as his eyes move around Alec’s face.

“Well _hello_ , baby, fancy some back seat bingo with me later?”

His own mouth opens in a flirty smile, teeth flashing dangerously, and he knows his eyes are a mirror of the man opposite him. He leans forward slightly to reply, what he hopes is a sultry response, but a throaty cough stops him from continuing and Alec knows that his face is flushing once more. The Asian opposite him only lets out an annoyed huff and glance in Jace’s direction before focusing his attention back on Alec, eyes piercing him as if reading his thoughts.

“Well, what’s your tale nightingale?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!! Here's a chapter from Alec's POV from both before and after the events of last chapter. I have to say, I loved reading all of your surprised comments, it made my day to see your enjoyment of the story and that I managed to surprise you all so well. As always, please comment on what you enjoyed, didn't and want to see happen in the future.
> 
> Also fyi, although this is set in the 50s homosexuality and racism aren't really bothered about - I know it was prominent and homosexuality was illegal but for the sake of this AU, lets pretend it wasnt.
> 
> Chilli -A good deal  
> Peachy keen- Unusually good or fine  
> Cloud nine - Really happy  
> Cool it - Relax  
> Dreamboat - A really cute guy  
> Pegged sleeves - to pin your shirt sleeves tight to enhance the look of your muscles  
> Apple butter - Flattery/smooth talk  
> Cookie - A person  
> Back seat bingo - Necking in a car  
> Whats the tale nightingale - Whats the story 
> 
> Magnus hair: https://www.google.com/search?q=long+classic+pompadour&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwj83Lah077fAhVis3EKHdCaBacQ_AUIDigB&biw=1366&bih=657#imgrc=VmsdyHp-ibC5bM:


	4. Be dangerous, darling, for the whole world rises and falls at your feet.

_“Oh Magnus…por favor…"_

_“Mmm, Alexander you absolute darling…”_

Magnus’ hand rose steadily up under the skirt clad thigh of Alexander Lightwood and pulled the smaller male closer to his body, the pulsating heat between them sharpening. A sweet moan dragged its way out of the younger males throat and Magnus couldn’t help but to respond in kind as the two moved their bodies in a syncopated rhythm. He licked up the bead of sweat on the pale, virginal neck and sucked on the line of his jaw.

They burned and pulsated. Rushed towards feeling, heightened their pleasure.

They were together in the backseat of Magnus’ car, the man himself positioning his body above the smaller male with one arm and an elbow as his other hand dragged over the hot body of his companion beneath him. Touched pale and smooth skin. Untouched and unsullied skin. He was the first.

He _would_ be the last.

Alexander was stretched out under Magnus’ bulk, mewling and begging under the sultry attentions of the elders lips and hand. One leg was wrapped tightly around Magnus’ hip, the heel of his foot digging sharply into the dimples of his broad back.

The other trapped underneath the towering length of his body. The burning embers of passion overwhelming his senses as he lost himself to desire and gave his body willingly to the elder to do with as he pleased. He had never felt this pleasure before, he would die without it now.

Porcelain hands dragged their way up and down his back, tugging at his clothing and demanding their removal. It was harsh and desperate, a mad movement of passion that Alexander couldn’t stop if he tried.

Together their hips rolled in hunger, racing towards a relief and a high they couldn’t wait to experience concurrently. It was messy and frantic, a far cry from the usual displays Magnus put on with his lovers, but so very perfect and the elder found himself wanting to stay in this moment forever.

Alexander was something new, something _tantilising_ and Magnus knew he would no longer be satisfied with any other lover.

A hoarse cry. A whimper. A grunt. A release of tension and anticipation. They were what Magnus desired from this gorgeous, gorgeous boy squirming deliciously beneath him dressed in a skirt and not much else.

Their lips met in a continual battle of passion, a game of domination pushing their tongues together. Alexander’s mouth was wet and hot, inviting Magnus to conduct a thorough exploration of what lay inside. He pushed his tongue into the luscious cavern as the smaller male arched his back upwards, moaning Magnus’ name in the space between them.

God, Alexander was trying to kill him.

Magnus thrusted his hips downwards with a particularly vicious and lustful force, jolting Alexander’s body backwards towards the door. The smaller male whined, high and loud, and his hand scrambled for placement on the window, leaving behind a handprint of the steam soaked glass. His fingers grasped for something to hold onto but, finding nothing, pale fingers began tugging at the black strands of Magnus’ hair.

Both had lost their shirts in the desperation and lust leading to this moment, but Magnus could not find it within himself to complain. It was a shame really, that Alexander had hidden something so delightful from him underneath that beautiful black blouse he’d been wearing. All smooth, hard muscle. Lithe and nubile body, hairless, unmarked, _virginal_.

Perfect.

Magnus forced his lips away from the inviting plush and plump lips of Alexander and began a descent down his neck, directing his attentions towards that chest he adored so much. Lower. Lower. Lower. Alexander mewled into the steamed space surrounding them, a whine of Magnus’ name and a plea for something _more._

Magnus blood fired up, he was desperate and passionate. His blood ran hot and he wanted Alexander.

A hoarse cry. A whimper. A grunt. A loud bang from the outside of the car.

Magnus shot up in an instant, grabbing his gun from the front seat and turning the face the window that originated the noise. He was straddling an uncomprehensive and lust driven Alexander, eyes dark, hair distorted, chest bare and sweaty. His lipstick was smeared around his lips, eyeshadow smudged beyond repair, checkered skirt pushed and abandoned around his thighs   _God_ did Magnus want to corrupt him further.

He knew he should be focused on the potential threat outside his car, but surely any slight on his part could be forgiven when reviewing his precarious position over a pliant and sexually charged Alexander Lightwood?

His fears were for naught when, instead of an intense and murderous threat – which it could be seeing as he was a _Bane_ \- Magnus instead was met with the unimpressed and angry face of Jace Wayland. The blond was scowling like a thunderstorm at the sight of Magnus atop of his anchor and the gleam in his eyes showed more than anything his disapproval.

The blonde’s anger, admittedly, was allowable considering the circumstances. It had been the one thing Jace had asked all those nights ago; A night shrouded in alcohol, Lucky smoke and vague promises.

Do _not_ sleep with him.

The Asian let out an angry sigh. Leant down. Pressed his lips against the cherry ones he now worshipped. Relished in the moan he created. Kissed again. Then again.

“I’ll be back in a moment darling.”

_“Mmm, date prisa en volver…”_

God did he love that Spanish accent.

Magnus kissed Alexander one last time before opening the door of his car and awkwardly making his way out. Whilst straddling Alexander Lightwood was unbelievably a turn on, trying to crawl out of the car with him underneath you and too blissed out to move was a bit difficult.

Still, his hard on remained. He was too shameless to care.

Soon Magnus stood before blondie, unashamedly shirtless and erect in the evening light. He needed to get out of his slacks and soon; the tight black fabric was producing unpleasurable feelings.

He shut the door behind him without turning to look, allowing his darling some measure of privacy from his best friend. It was also because he would likely return to the car should he catch sight of his lover looking so debauched. He said nothing as he faced down the angry blond, merely cocked an eyebrow and waited.

He waited. Pursed his lips. Sighed.

“Bane.” Came the short start, voice abrupt and close to rage. The hand on the gun in front of his tightened ever so slightly. Not a good start.

“Wayland.” Magnus responded smugly, face blissed out and relaxed. He could guess the cause of Blondie’s stress, _knew_ the cause, but he was in too much of a good news to say anything and so waited for the boy to continue the conversation.

“You said five minutes.”

“Did I?”

“You know you did.”

“Do I though?”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree.” Came the aggravated response, and Magnus could see blondie curling his hands into fists, skin whitening with the tension. He smiled, face like the cat who got the cream. Or, in this particular case, Alexander Lightwood. He loved getting the blondie.

“You’re supposed to help me protect him, not seduce him!”

“Well,” he laughed, voice darkening to something pleasurable at the reminder of events unfolding mere minutes ago, “I think that it can go both ways, no?”

When they’d been back at the restaurant Magnus had gazed upon the real face of Alexander with something close to divine worship. The boy had looked so worried when he had taken the wig off, understandably so, his eyes darting almost unconsciously to every inch of the room as if checking for enemies.

The boy may not be a part of his and blondie’s world, but he knew enough to survive.

Although his face had been slightly altered by makeup during their initial meeting, the lack of wig had revealed to Magnus just how unbearably handsome the man before him was and all he could think of was getting him underneath him. _Inside_ him.

His promise of backseat bingo was had become all the more alluring.

He’d listened to Alexander explain in low dulcet tones how he’d been thrown out of his parents for coming out, how the first thing he’d done after high school was to open his own bookstore. He understood and sympathised with the struggles the young boy had faced; they were different to his own, but struggles, nonetheless.

He had listen enraptured as Alexander explained Jace’s plan and his involvement in the blondes punishment by the mafia.

It had broke his heart to see a boy with no dealing with the mafia be caught so dangerously in the middle.

It hadn’t stopped him from flirting with Alexander, however, and in spite of Jace’s valiant attempts otherwise, Alexander had comfortably, if blushing more than any person Magnus had seen do before, flirted back. _Gosh_ it had been wonderful; Alexander certainly was no square.

When the time came for the three to part ways, Magnus had requested they continue the conversation further. He hadn’t wanted to be separated from the younger boy, felt it like an abscess in his heart, and had made the request impulsively.

They’d separated into their respective cars – Magnus had been happy to note the better quality of his car in regard to Jace’s - and the two friends had followed behind as Magnus led them to a secluded area.

If said area was a renown lovers lane, then Magnus had simply arrived by coincidence. Not by choice, definitely not.

The two had joined him in his car to talk further but after only a couple of minutes the Indonesian mafia leader had removed blondie with the excuse that he needs some _private_ details from Alexander. He’d said five minutes. Jace had waited fifteen.

Magnus and Alexander had begun necking within thirty seconds of privacy.

Without a word, Jace pushed Magnus aside and threw open the car door. It was, quite frankly, rude, but Magnus didn’t really have a leg to stand on in this moment after Jace had just caught them almost naked. Jace did not look directly at the younger male lounging comfortably on his back seats, instead throwing the black blouse in his general direction after picking it up from the floor and demanding he put it on.

With grumbling and petulant whines - which Magnus would wholly admit he found adorable - Alexander Lightwood had put on his black blouse and allowed himself to be dragged from the backseat and into the open, hands clutching lightly at the straps of the black t-strap shoes that had been removed first during their necking.

It was a little distorting to see Alexander back in the female clothes Magnus had practically torn from his body but he wasn’t complaining about the image. Alexander was lust personified and yet still looked so _pure._

In the evening light he looked even more wrecked than the elder had thought, but Magnus found no regret buried within him. From the smug, blissed out look on Alexander’s face, neither did he. Jace grumbled angrily under his breath at them both and petulantly handed his friend a cloth with which to wipe his face.

The lipstick was smudged beyond repair.

With barely a look in Magnus’ direction, Jace began bodily dragging a pliant Alexander away to his own car, no doubt attempting to bring the smaller boy back to his apartment, and to relative safety.

“Stay away from my friend Bane!” He growled out, the hand holding his gun waving around in a threatening manner.

Magnus scoffed. Raised an eyebrow. Smirked.

“I wouldn’t put your hopes on it.”

Alexander laughs, a high, crisp noise and Magnus feels the fluttering sensations of his heart at the sound. The smaller male calls out in a sultry voice, “You’re quite a man Magnus Bane” as he lets Jace bundle him away into the passenger seat of his car. Their eyes lock, green on blue, and the presence of desire that burns between them reignites.

He wants to touch. He wants to go further than necking. He also wants to _know_ Alexander, and that thought is truly terrifying.

“Oh darling, I am so much _more.”_

He lets Alexander go. Watches as Jace all but throws him in the car and drives off. They will see each other again; he promises himself _that_. He won’t let such a tantalising prize slip through his grasp.

Magnus has not felt such strong emotions for another person in years, and yet within the space of a few hours Alexander Lightwood had destroyed his defences and made a permanent home in Magnus’ heart.

Jace may have an anchor in him, but Magnus finds a _future_.

He’s so glad he accepted blondies call for help so many nights ago.

 

* * *

 

 

Alec thinks that Magnus, undoubtably, has one of the best racing cars he’s seen for a long time. A black 1956 Austin Healey. Sleek, refined. _Hot._

The man himself sits in the driver’s seat like he owns the world. Probably does, he’s the son of a mafia don. There’s something so intrinsically dangerous about the elder that Alec can’t seem to get enough. He _burns_ for Magnus. He wants everything with him.

He knows Magnus feels the same.

After their meeting last week, that delicious, hot, _devastating_ meeting, Magnus had made more than true on his suggestion of Alec seeing a drag race. In particular, he’d invited him to the one _he_ was racing in. It was dangerous for Alec to be out as he was. He was hunted. Wanted. His own best friend was supposed to kill him because of some mistake he refused to tell Alec about. He was supposed to be hiding. Scared.

But he wasn’t.

Instead he was sat on the hood of a red 1954 Triumph Tr2. He feared little in this moment; he was surrounded by men who Magnus trusted and Jace had power over. The Morgenstern mafia, for once in their life, had very little influence in this area.

Above him on the bridge the traffic of normal life continued on.

Alec’s trying his hardest to impress his intended man, to get Magnus interested in coming after him before the race. Alec is more than aware that at eighteen he is still too gangly to be considered truly graceful or sexy. He looks more like a startled deer than a seductress.

Pointless.

He wants Magnus, despite the trouble it may bring, and Magnus wants him. So he tries his hardest to tempt the man. Jace may have forced him to sit on the hood of his own car rather than Magnus’, but their was no doubt where he his eyes continues to stray. Where his passion was.

Jace could try to keep them separate for the sake of ‘his safety’ but Alec knew Jace was simply putting up a front for Magnus; wanted to agitate the man. He cared little that Alec was actually interested in Magnus – in fact encouraged it – but his best friend wanted to milk the situation for all it was worth.

Hence, being forced to sit on the hood of Jace’s car, as opposed to Magnus’ lap.

He sits. Waits. Breaths out smoke. Across from him Magnus and Jace are sniping harsh and petty insults at each other. Its nothing more than a power play. Jace is still angry at what he and Magnus did last week. God, Alec was almost still _hard_ from last week.

Isabelle would have loved to see Jace duelling with words rather than guns. It would have amused her greatly; she would have also loved to see her _Hermano_ being the reason why.

He rightfully and proudly admits to himself that Magnus preparing for a drag looks dreamy. Gone is his smart tie and sinful looking suit from their first meeting, hello leather jacket and tight black trousers. Magnus’ eyes are smudged with eyeliner and eyeshadow, emphasising their green orbs and lengthen his lashes.

Alec’s own pale blue shirt is loose and unbuttoned from neck to navel, revealing lines of lithe muscles and a small waist littered with fading finger shaped bruises. _Magnus_ shaped bruises. Alec had felt overjoyed when he realised Magnus’ marks weren’t going to disappear for a while, glad he could keep a reminder of their fifteen minutes together; he couldn’t explain the depth or speed of his affection but he felt that it was welcome in his heart. His shorts are similar to the increasingly popular female ones, delightfully short, tight and cropping close to his ass.

He’d pulled out all the stops for this drag.

Already he has heard people calling out to him, already has Magnus eyes strayed to his legs.

The pair of them are crusin’ for a bruisin’ this evening. Magnus’ original competitor ‘dropped out’ at the last moment and Jace was glad to step in. Alec personally thought his best friend was made of shit and wanted to antagonise others. Especially after what he perceived to be Magnus ‘corrupting’ him the other week.

It was also likely that Jace had paid this ‘competitor’ to leave the race, leaving a wide open, available space for him to enter and – by Jace’s own account – win.

The drag was sure to be interesting, however.

Jace was racing for information – Magnus had gathered some intelligence for them during their week separation – without a high fee, and Magnus was playing for Alec, or at least, Jace uncomplaining about him having Alec.

It was a weird and yet strangely romantic method of courtship that made Alec blush n=under the cover of darkness.

Either way, the drag race was sure to be swell and Alec couldn’t wait to see the outcome. With Magnus’ information they would be one step closer to bringing down Jace’s adopted father’s mafia empire (and protecting Alec’s life) and Alec would once again get to feel those passionate fingers leaving bruises on his skin.

Maybe even more. If Magnus was serious about him, and with the legalisation of gay marriage passing on the cusp of 1940, there was always a chance their relationship could go somewhere further. Somewhere Alec had long since stopped dreaming of.

A commotion occurred further away between the two men and Alec swiftly moved off the hood of Jace’s car as the man himself approached and entered. “Bane wants to talk to you.” His rough voice called out and Alec sauntered over quickly, eager for the chance to speak to Magnus.

Green eyes studied the elegant sway of his hips, pale pink tongue swiping across suddenly dry lips as his bare legs came closer. Alec felt a sudden rush of brashness and leaned over the side of the car, back arched and curved to emphasise his ass, torso and head angled close to Magnus himself.

“Hey gorgeous.” The taller male drawled out, green eyes piercing into his own blue ones; he caught them straying to his behind and smiled internally at his ability to seduce Magnus.

“Hey yourself.” He whispered hoarsely, allowing a finger to trail the line of Magnus’ neck, eyes trailing the path before he felt it.

Magnus grabbed the hand and pressed a light kiss to the knuckle, green eyes searching for something within the depths of his own. “I’m gonna win this for you doll.” He murmured, mouth open in a small but sure smile and Alec felt the side of his own raise up in happiness.

“You better.” He responded, leaning over further to place a determined, yet chaste, kiss upon those lips he’d been dreaming avidly about for _days_.

With a wink and a confidence never felt before, Alec turned and strutted away, hips swaying in an exaggerated manner to show his pleasure with Magnus’ promise. He heard a stifled groan from the man behind him and various catcalls from the people around who had been watching the exchange.

He watched silently as the both men began simultaneously started up their engines and drove themselves at the starting line. His turn had arrived. They knew the rules.

With swaying hips and popping a piece of gum in his mouth, Alec walked to the space between the two cars, a scarf he’d found in the back of his wardrobe wrapped around his hand. He winked at Magnus and blew him a kiss, licked his lips, smiled widely at Jace in support and raised his hand up high.

He dropped the scarf.

The cars sped off.

The race had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Hope you enjoyed this long overdue chapter and lack of fifties words that i so normally put it. Please comment below on what you liked, didn't and want to see in the future!


	5. Rewards

The drag was a blast, with Magnus being victorious over Jace by quite a decent stretch of time. The blond had soared across the finish line, angry, sweaty and a full thirty seconds after his competition. He’d finished only to find Alexander pressed up against the hood of the Indonesian’s black 1956 Austin Healey uncaring of his brother.

Their lips were locked tightly together, their necking progressing almost at a vicious pace as the sparse onlookers cheered and jeered at them. Magnus had detached himself with a breathy sigh,  turned round to face the blonde, raised an eyebrow in defiance and amusement. He watched as the younger male stormed towards them, the engine of his car not yet turned off, with a face of thunder.

“Have fun burning rubber?” Magnus asked cheerfully, his tawny arms wrapped tightly around the short clad hips of Alexander. Jace said nothing in return, simply glared, flexed his arms, and tutted at the lust blown pupils of his brothers usually azure blue eyes.

From behind him Alexander laughed his cheerfully gay laugh. The sound ricochet in Magnus’ chest and made his heart clench in longing. Hope, a _dream._ “Gosh don’t be such a bug Jace.”

The edge of Jace’s lips had turned slightly at the playful jeering of his best friend and Magnus could see the anger in his eyes, the anger that could easily start a blood-curdling war, decline and dwindle out. “I’ll let you be for now Bane.” He began, voice low, dangerous.

“But tomorrow I want that information.” He demanded. He’d said nothing else, waited for no reaction. The blond strutted away back to his car, slammed the door angrily shut, drove off with hardly a look behind him.

Alexander giggled once again and Magnus automatically focused back onto the smaller male. He looked a dolly, a dreamboat. His long pale legs on full display for viewing, hairless and smooth. His shirt open, revealing his long, lean torso with a trail of black hairs leading into the waistline of his shorts. God, those shorts.

Shorter than Magnus’ restrain and as tight as sin. Alexander had looked like a knock out in the outfit and Magnus couldn’t wait to get somewhere more private.

“Come on baby,” he whispered, spoke into Alexander’s ear. He could see the Goosebumps on his arms, could smell the remnants of lucky smoke and arousal. “Let’s hits the road.”

 

* * *

 

 

Alec wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up here, but he wasn’t going to complain. Magnus’ office was dark, secluded, hidden. Here it didn’t matter he was wanted. Hunted.  He sat atop a dark oak desk uncaring of the threat. He was leaning back onto his forearms, shirt long discarded, feet propped up on the edge, legs spread wantonly.

Magnus was standing in between the straddle of his legs, tanned hands groping his chest, mouth latched onto his neck. Their hips were pushed tight as one and Alec grinded their erections together, chasing after the gratifying feeling of pulsating heat.

All around his body, electric sensations of pleasure shot through his nerves as Magnus’ talented hands started going lower and lower, his kisses becoming more heated, more possessive, more passionate. The smaller man couldn’t stop himself throwing his head back, releasing a long, low moan of deep pleasure. It was guttural and demonic.

In response Magnus bucked his hips sharply with a hiss. The hard outline of his cock slammed against Alec’s ass and the paler man grabbed tightly onto Magnus’ hair. He pulled the older man up, smashed their lips together, explored the wet heat of his mouth with his tongue. There was no battle for dominance, Alec would let Magnus do what he desired with his body.

Magnus owned him.

“Alexander…” Magnus murmured in the space between their lips, hands stealthily moving lower towards the buttons of his shorts. He was excited, aroused, overwhelmed. Magnus would kill him and bring him to heaven in one night. “ _Por favor”_ He begged, English slipping from his mind as Magnus began tearing the shorts away from his body.

No words were spoke between them as Magnus ripped his shorts in half, throwing the scraps of clothing across the room. Alec gasped sinfully into his mouth and Magnus reclaimed his lips, nipping and biting and sucking. “ _Por favor, por favor, por favor.”_ His voice rose, his hips bucked, his nails scratched at the nape of Magnus’ neck.

“Baby, baby, baby.” Magnus responded instantly, gazing in lustful amazement at the sight of tight, blood red panties adorning Alec’s waist. The flimsy material clung to his hips and barely restrained his cock; his flushed, hard, _pulsing_ cock. Magnus moaned and dived back onto Alec’s lips, kissing with a fever of untameable passion.

The taller man’s hands stroked his thighs as if worshipping a god. The coarse, scarred hands were rough on his unblemished skin, teasingly moving up and down, closer to where Alec most desperately wanted them. Alec whined at the back of his throat, demanding more, more, _more._ “ _Te lo ruego.”_

Alec could barely think in English anymore, his mind a cloud of pleasure, his mouth vocalising only moans and whimpers. He _needed_ Magnus.

Magnus bit into his lower lip, drawing blood. He ripped his panties in half, exposing his flushed cock. Alec whined louder, glad for the privacy in Magnus’ office and pushed up his hips, his feet stationed on the desk allowing his to grind against Magnus’ hips. “Patience doll.”

Magnus’ hands began roughly tugging and pulling where he wanted, spreading his wetness and making him sing. Never before had another person touched him here, never before had someone given him such pleasure. Magnus would be the only _one._

He felt the rising crescendo of his heart; the pulsating, burning need for completion building deep within him. Magnus kept up his motions, driving him insane with pleasure. His back arched, his hips pressed up, his face permanently flushed. Magnus consumed him fully, licking along the sea of his lips as his hands began to speed up the motions.

“ _Cerrar.”_ Alec cried out, bucking his hips harder. He pulled harshly on Magnus’ gelled hair, forcing his head back. He bit the man’s lips, sucked, licked. The Asian’s green eyes were consumed by darkness, hips lips blood red, face flushed.

“Come.” He demanded.

Alec obeyed.

* * *

 

 

The exterior of Alexander’s bookshop was nothing less than he expected. Small, quaint and undeniably warm. A large window display showed the current bestsellers and recommended reads, the frame and door painted a dark, comforting orange that reminded Magnus of Halloween. Above the door a wooden sign proudly bared _Lightwood Literary_ in golden cursive. It was humbling. Perfect.

It was tucked down a snickelway, hidden between two busy streets with large, mass-produced stores and mashed between a café and seedy looking bar. From inside he could hear a slight melody crooning from a record player and the faint shadows of the two people he needed to see.

He pushed open the door, a chiming bell dinged above him. He paused, smiled, closed the door behind him. This shop was perfect for his baby. Now inside he could hear the dulcet tones of Dinah Washington crooning out _“I don’t hurt anymore”,_ the softness of volume contributing to the homely feel of the place.

Every inch of the store was covered in books. The shelves were neatly organised but overflowing, a large selection divided and put away as best as possible. Magnus could see the areas for different genres, ages, interests.

It was divine.

He turned his head to the left, hearing a breathy voice singing under their breath. Behind a counter stood the two people he needed most to see. A blond looking unsure, raggedy, tired. A noirette looking radiant, handsome and dolly. God he was real gone with Alexander.

The two were peering at him, one frowning, one smiling. Magnus glided over to them, reaching out to kiss his baby, allowing it to turn more passionate as the ventured into necking, tongue beginning to dance together. Alexander had left his office mere hours ago and was now dressed in an oversized jumper and trouser combo of Magnus’ after his other clothes were torn to shreds.

He looked adorable.

A cough broke them apart. Magnus shifted back slowly, licking his lips and relishing the taste of Alexander. “ _Papi…”_ came a breathy moan. Magnus felt his breath hitch and heard blondie’s catch.

“No thank you, not today.” Jace hurried out, standing in front of Magnus and blocking their paths. He stared down at the blond, his green eyes burning holes but the younger refused to move, far too disturbed by what he’d heard uttered by his best friend.

Behind him Alexander whined, petulant and demanding, but Jace ignored it in favour of glaring at Magnus. He rolled his eyes and took a step back, holding his hands up towards the blond.

A symbol of surrender.

Jace moved slightly, giving both parties freedom to gaze dreamily towards one another. “As much as I am enjoying this,” he started, “you are here for a reason.” Like a snap Magnus broke out of his haze. Here for a reason. Here to protect his doll from the Morgenstern mafia. He couldn’t waste time; it would only put Alexander in more danger.

“You are right, for once, I have something to tell you.” Magnus painfully ignored the saddened expression on Alexander’s face and fixated on Jace’s, knowing that the blond needed the information he had… _acquired._ The Indonesian looked round one last time. The sign said closed, the curtains were drawn, they were alone.

They were safe.

“I’ve been told something important. It means the end of the Morgenstern’s.”

Before him, two bodies snapped to attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, as usual I hope you enjoyed this chapter and don't hesitate to leave a comment on what you liked or want to see next.


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